Summer Camp: It's Complicated
by PonyGrim
Summary: WARN: ON INDEFINITE HIATUS! Mabel and Dipper go to summer camp, and Dipper enlists the help of a demon to protect his sister. (By: Monty/Perve and iNsANiTy/Onix)
1. Chapter 1

_**Insane: I can't believe you uploaded another teaser without telling me! -.-**_

**Perverted: Hehehe...**

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Seven hours.

Seven hours in the musty old Jeep, with Mabel driving somewhat illegally and Dipper just trying to relax in the shotgun seat while being hit by multiple stickers and a Royal Pine car freshener. By the time the twins reached the camp, the poor boy seriously needed to relieve his bladder.

Mabel hopped out of her Jeep cheerfully, skipping over to the area where several kids were being assigned to cabins. She looked back with slight concern as Dipper did an awkward sprint towards the bathrooms, nearly tripping over his own feet when he tried to open the door. She held back a giggle at her desperate brother, before turning to the counselor. "Um… Cabin 3 and Cabin 4," the exhausted teen muttered, holding out a sheet of paper to the happy girl. Mabel took it and walked over to the bathroom entrance.

"Dipper, you got a roommate!" she yelled, knocking with almost furious happiness. She heard her brother flush and leave the bathrooms, looking incredibly tired _**(Pervy why didn't he wash his hands!? 030)**_. She embraced him happily before shoving the paper in his face. "Here!"

"Uh… yeah," Dipper replied quietly. "I'll… walk you to your cabin." He walked back to the Jeep and got his trunk, Mabel in tow. The two walked to Cabin 3 with their belongings before dropping them off by the door. A message came over the loudspeaker saying that dinner was in thirty minutes, and the new campers should unpack in the mean time.

Mabel ran up the stairs with her trunk making an uncomfortable bouncing noise. Dipper marveled at her speed and stamina against the concrete steps, and remained staring at her, awestruck, until she gave him a weird look. "Come on, broseph! Your turn!"

Dipper snapped out of his staring immediately and followed her up the steps. He could hear his sister giggling when he reached the final stair, panting and looking into the cabin. She opened the screen door and parked her trunk near the bunk beds in the corner. "I call top!" She yelled, despite not having a roommate in her cabin.

Dipper gave her a weak grin. His energetic sister flew up the ladder and stared down at him with a huge smile. "Hey, Dip, can you open my trunk?" she asked.

The 16 year old looked at her suspiciously. "You didn't put any booby traps in there or anything, did you?" he asked warily.

Mabel laughed. "No, bro, I swear. Just open it!"

Despite the warning bells going off in his head, Dipper slowly made his way over to his sister's trunk. He could feel the latch on it straining and braced himself for hell. When he popped the latch, he was engulfed with a multicolored wave of fabric.

"Sweaters!" he heard his sister cry from the top bunk. He pulled her shooting star sweater off his face and looked at Mabel's gleeful expression. She took a step back, before leaping off her perch and landing in the pile of colorful knitting. He heard a happy shriek as she hit her pile of homemade sweaters, burrowing into her handiwork with elation.

Dipper smiled at his sister, tangled up in the fabric and squawking gleefully. "I gotta go to my cabin, now, Mabes," he said to her regretfully. "My roommates wondering where I am and all…"

"Oh, sure! I'll see you at dinner, Dip!" Mabel replied cheerfully. She slid out of her trunk and started unpacking her many possessions. Before he left, Dipper marveled at how much _stuff_ she had fit in there. It was a wonder she had gotten up the stairs so fast.

He hopped down the steps outside her cabin and started pulling his trunk in the direction of Cabin 4, positioned next door from his sister's current quarters. He could already hear the rambunctious chatter and banter between his roommates. The young detective couldn't help but sigh. With such rough and boisterous people to be sharing his home for the next two weeks with, he feared for his delicate personality.

He tried to haul his heavy trunk up the stairs. It seemed his muscles hadn't improved at all during what puberty he had experienced so far, and his "noodle arms" remained from four years ago. Dipper was panting and straining against the handle of his trunk until he heard the screen door open behind him.

"Oi, you must be Dipper!" A tall boy was staring down at him curiously. Dipper felt himself immediately get shaky. He had never been the social butterfly that his sister was, and being in the presence of other people tended to make him jumpy and nervous.

"That's my name," Dipper responded weakly. He gave his trunk a pull before wheezing loudly. "Um… can you help me with this please?"

"Sure thing, buddy," the tall boy approved. He walked down the two steps to where Dipper was standing and took the trunk's handle roughly. With a quick pull, the trunk was left right outside the door and the boy was grinning down at the young detective. "Welcome to Cabin 4!"

Dipper pulled his trunk inside the cabin. Several boys could be seen roughhousing, shoving and leaping after each other on the bunk beds. There was an empty one next to the door, on the bottom bunk. One of his other roommates jabbed a finger towards the cot, and Dipper scurried over to it and set up his trunk at the foot.

The young detective looked through his belongings frantically. There was one possession he had brought with him that he was extremely protective of, and would it bring his hilarious wrath if anything were to happen to it. Dipper let out a relieved sigh as he pulled out a ragged old journal, hugging the book to his chest.

"What's up with the diary, dorko?" a hefty boy called from across the room, staring at the book clasped in Dipper's hands. Dipper blushed and hid it behind his back.

"Nothing!" he squeaked. He had to keep it a secret. He may be the smartest in the cabin, but if anybody else got their hands on it, or at least got suspicious, he would probably be doomed to say the least. If letting everyone else think he had a diary would keep his journal a secret, then so be it.

The hefty boy laughed at him before getting nailed in the back of the head with a pillow. He yelled at the tall boy, who had thrown it, and got into a playful brawl with him while Dipper covered his eyes.

Soon, the loudspeaker announced dinner was ready. Dipper had to leap out of the way as a stampede of boys ran through the door towards the mess hall. The younger boy was left trailing in the dust. He looked at the daunting hill the other boys had run up with no trouble, and slowly closed his eyes.

"What up, bro?" he heard someone cheerfully ask behind him. He opened his eyes and looked at Mabel, who was smiling broadly up at her brother. "You ever wonder why they call it a mess hall? I always thought it was because there was a mess up there, but then somebody else said it was where we were supposed to _make_ a mess. I haven't really decided yet. What do you think?"

"I have no clue," Dipper replied truthfully. He started walking up the path, Mabel following him and talking about the etymology of "mess". By the time the two reached the doors to the eating quarters, everybody else was already digging into their plates of food.

"Crud," the young detective moaned. Every table was taken except the one in the complete center of the room, underneath a large canoe hanging from the ceiling. Mabel, without much misgivings about being seated directly in front of everyone else, walked inside and started piling her plate with food from the buffet.

Dipper followed her in slowly, his head down and hat pulled over his eyes. His sister tapped her foot impatiently and practically tossed a plate at him. "Get some food, bro bro! We only have until six thirty to eat!"

"That's in forty minutes," Dipper replied, glancing at his watch. Even so, he followed his sister's lead and filled his plate with food before joining her at the lone empty table. He could feel the eyes of his cabinmates boring into him, and resisted the urge to duck under his seat.

Mabel was talking across the room to some younger girls, shoveling chicken into her mouth and beaming at the other cabins. Dipper heard a brief shout from one of the boys sharing his confines, but he pretended not to notice. The shouting persisted, however, and Dipper was forced to reply with "What?"

"Who's that girl next to you?" the hefty boy yelled, pointing at Mabel.

Dipper felt a bead of sweat running down his neck. Mabel had somehow shoved a chicken bone into one of her nostrils and was gesturing wildly at the younger girls, who were laughing their heads off at the silly teen. "Um… she's my friend!" he called back, hoping Mabel wouldn't hear. His sister meant well, but there were times when he just thought it better he rode solo.

"Nice friend!" Another, shorter boy smirked. He said something to the hefty boy, who burst out laughing and clapped him on the back. Dipper looked away and set his gaze on his sister, who was now crossing her eyes while balancing the chicken bone on the very tip of her tongue. The cabin of younger girls were grinning and hooting with laughter as Mabel tried to talk and ended up spitting the bone across the room.

"Whoa, Dip, did you see that?" Mabel exclaimed, poking his shoulder. "I think I hit the cook in the head!"

The rest of the dinner went without much event. At one point Dipper choked on a piece of corn and Mabel ended up having to clap him on the back so hard, he fell over. (He decided he no longer liked corn after that.) A kid at another table threw a paper airplane at a counselor, provoking a long speech about manners at a camp. The tall boy at Dipper's table managed to balance three cupcakes on his head. After a long period of time, the head of camp clinked his glass and walked to the front of the room.

Dipper listened to the welcoming speech, followed by the long list of rules and activities he could participate in. The loud voice of the camp head was boring into his brain. The young detective officially lost interest during the part about community Capture The Flag, and the mandatory participation. He was pretty sure Mabel was asleep by then.

Finally, the camp was dismissed. Though Dipper was reluctant to leave his sister behind, she gave him a quick hug and told him she'd see him tomorrow. With that, he watched her leave, and sighed as he followed the long line of boys back to his cabin.

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**A/N: Well, after two teasers, we finally have the first chapter. We're sorry about the dullness of it, and both of us guarantee the next to be much "juicier", as our writing teacher calls it. Last warning dudes: if you don't like Mabill, get the heck on out of here*.**

***Strangely, we don't like Mabill either. As a matter of fact, we just wanted to write this because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Monty's a Wendipper, and we really aren't sure what Insane is.**

_**030 Dipper still didn't wash his hands and he went to eat . . . disgusting. . . PERVY! WHY YOU NO MAKE DIPPER WASH HIS HANDS?! **_

_**~Insane One o . 0**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two, dudes.**

**Insane: I am FUDGING posting this chapter . . . screw it, you're uploading it :D**

**Also, I'll be away in Colorado and California til Monday (?) so . . . don't do anything weird to the fanfic 'cause I got my eyes on you . . . O.O**

**Monty: HA! I posted it! Eat your words! (Also, please don't kill me at school tomorrow…)**

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The ordinary night cycle went by without much event. As usual, Dipper found his toothpaste far too minty, while the other boys roughhoused and fought over who got to use the shower first. Eventually a counselor came in and refereed the mess, leaving the young detective to find his way out of the washrooms and into his bed. He would not be taking a shower that night.

Fifteen minutes passed where Dipper was in peace, reading out of the old journal he had found in the woods. He had brought his blacklight with him, and was eagerly reading the hidden messages in a page about unicorns. However, his blissful silence was rudely interrupted as eight other boys entered the cabin, laughing and hollering cheerfully.

"Dude, did you see how far Chris spit his toothpaste?"

"Yeah, that was insane!"

"But you, like, threw your toothbrush into the toilet!"

"I didn't mean to, dude, I swear. I was just trying to brush my teeth while taking a pee."

Dipper muttered and shoved the blacklight under his pillow, along with the journal itself. He quickly pulled out an old mystery novel, The Sibling Brothers and the Case of the Caper-Case Caper, his great-uncle Stan had sent with him, and started reading halfway through the book. The other boys didn't take much notice of him, and started bouncing off the walls the moment the counselor left with a warning that lights-out was ten o' clock.

Even though he had read the book three times already, Dipper couldn't process a paragraph of words with the shouting and whooping going on outside and above his secluded bunk. He looked out from under the top bed and watched the boys having loud conversations and miniature contests in different areas of the cabin. None of them had changed into what anyone would call pajamas, just T-shirts and boxers.

He retreated to the tiny amount of space he was to occupy for two weeks. Dipper slid under the covers, despite the uncomfortable warmth and humidity of the night, and tried to fall asleep. Soon, the voices died down to excited whispers, but the intensity and thrill of the conversation had not gone down one bit.

Dipper decided to switch tactics. He started to open up to the muffled conversation, hoping the blended voices would eventually lull him to sleep. However, there was one boy who was standing above the rest, and the young detective could hear every word he said as clear as day.

"Did you see that blond hottie at dinner?" the excited whisper came. Dipper heard the muddled agreement before another boy spoke up.

"She really wasn't the eye-catcher, though. How about the redhead the next table over? She was smoking!"

"Nah, the blond one was better," the dominant boy disagreed. However, his comment was shot down by another voice that Dipper recognized as the hefty boy who had spoken at dinner.

"Totally not, dude. That girl that Dipper was sitting next to totally, like, takes the cake," he breathed. This time, the voices that replied were mixed.

"Are you kidding? That girl was a total airhead!"

"He's got a point, though. That smile…"

Dipper perked up his ears completely. They were talking about his sister! And no question about it, the conversation was getting a little less than appropriate in his eyes.

"How about that ass? I wonder if that's why she wears skirts like that…"

"Nah, she's really not that hot…"

"Are you kidding me, dude? I'd do anything to get under that sweater!"

"Totally agree with you there, bro. Wonder how she'd act if you tried to make a move on her?"

Dipper's eyes widened, first with surprise, then disgust. How dare they talk about Mabel like that? It was gross, and wrong, and they were at a summer camp for spirit's sake!

The young detective listened in silent horror as the conversation carried on. "Probably wouldn't do much," the hefty boy answered. "You were right, she is an airhead, but that's sometimes a good thing…"

"No kidding, dude. I bet she's easy."

"Definitely. You know what? I think I'm going to try to talk to her tomorrow."

The boys hooted and wolf-whistled, clapping the boy who had spoken on the back. "Go for it, bro!"

Dipper couldn't take anymore. He slid out of his bed, unnoticed by the other boys in the darkness, and nearly ran out the door. He raced down the path, stopping briefly to look at the cabin Mabel currently resided in.

Is she safe there?

He took off again, running for the bathrooms. Bursting through the door, he closed himself in one of the stalls and sat on the toilet seat, letting his head fall into his hands. I'll just wait here until they're done talking about my sister… Or, even better, until they just go to sleep and forget about those poor girls…

Dipper sat in the stall for what seemed like hours. When he finally started to make his way back up to his quarters, he could clearly tell it was well after lights out. A bit of guilt flooded through the boy, but he snuck back into his cabin without trouble.

The rambunctious cabinmates had dozed off. Dipper walked to the other end of the cabin and looked at them, unable to fall asleep. The words of the other boys echoed through his mind hauntingly. He started pacing back and forth on the floor in his socks.

"Gahh!" He flopped down on the bed and groaned quietly.

What could he do? He needed to convince Mabel not to do anything rash, but he knew deep down he would have to face it. When it came to love, Mabel was still the same boy-crazy girl she was four years ago, flirting with any guy who caught her eye. Thank goodness she had gotten pickier about things like that.

He covered his eyes with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, letting his hat fall off the other side of the bed, listening to the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. His fingers unconsciously traced over the points of the Big Dipper birthmark on his forehead.

"What am I going to do?" He whispered to himself out loud as he stared at the wooden ceiling.

Suddenly the room turned a tainted red and the ticking slowly came to a stop. "Huh?" He sat up quickly, looking around the room.

A familiar echoed maniacal laugh, "Well, well, well." One of the lights on the ceiling gained a pupil and blinked, its gaze moving until it landed on Dipper. It blinked again, and Dipper could see the faint outline of a yellow triangle begin to appear. The warning bells in his head went off, only to find his body paralyzed with shock.

Dipper watched as the form of his adversary materialized directly in front of him. The paralysis seemed to wear off for a split second, and the young detective backed away hastily, feeling his back hit the wall.

Bill Cipher laughed. "Looks like your sister's got some admirers," he remarked, rubbing two tiny fingers together.

"H-hardly," Dipper stuttered, trying to sound sarcastic but ending up afraid.

"Ha. You know what, kid? It looks like you could use some help here," Bill began. "You know, keeping your sister's "innocence" and all."

"Please don't say it like that," Dipper winced.

"You know what I mean. Anyway, I'm totally willing, Pine Tree, if you want to make a deal."

"L-like I need any help from you," the young detective muttered. "Besides, what would you even do to help?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about beating the sanity out of any boy who tries to take advantage of her?" Bill offered, widening his eye threateningly. "Never leaving her side for a second, but yet she would never know?"

Dipper was silent. As much as he hated to admit it, Bill was tempting him greatly.

"She wouldn't be in any danger," the demon continued. "And it's not like any of her unfortunate fans would perish. They'd just be in a psychiatric ward for a few months, that's all."

"I… don't know," the 16 year old replied uneasily.

Bill paused for a moment. "Imagine the consequences," he finally advised.

Dipper considered for a moment. He could feel himself flinching at every thought that flickered through his head, and he realized his body was going limp. He really was worried about his sister. Though he would never say, the last comment Bill had made really hit below the belt.

The young detective uttered something below his breath, reaching down and picking up his hat. His fingers scratched his skull as he placed it back on his head.

"Didn't quite catch that, kid," Bill taunted. His tiny hand flickered with an electrifying blue flame.

"I said fine," Dipper grumbled. "But if you hurt my sister, I swear, you'll pay for it!"

"Relax, kid, I'd never harm a hair on Shooting Star's head," Bill laughed, holding out his hand.

Dipper stared dubiously at the extended appendage, flickering with azure fire. He closed his eyes before reaching out his own fingers and grasping Bill's tiny hand in a handshake.

Dipper would one day look back on the situation, of all that passed in those days. Though he would sigh and glare at many moments, this was the ultimate one, the chosen one, that would make him facepalm and mutter about the "stupidest decision of my life".

In the moments that followed the handshake, Dipper felt an otherworldly sensation. Everything suddenly felt… lighter. His hand tingled as he felt Bill release it, and he suddenly felt his stomach doing flips as though he were floating. He opened his eyes and stared down in disbelief.

His bunk bed was several feet below him, and as for his body…

Bill stared up at Dipper, a smirk on his face. "And who could get closer to Shooting Star than her own brother?"

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**Please review.**


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